


Death Eater's Regrets

by AidenKettuRider, Scorpiusdare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other, Self-Harm, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidenKettuRider/pseuds/AidenKettuRider, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpiusdare/pseuds/Scorpiusdare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco felt so much regret for the things he had done.<br/>He'd killed so many. Could he ever be able to live normally again? A part of him doubted it greatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Draco sat down outside of Hogwarts. His back and shoulders twitched a bit as he tried to hold back tears and repress the memories of the magic council dragging his mother and father away. Most people thought it wrong that Draco had gotten off easy. A few lashes, more like a slap on the wrist compared to the treatment his parents would get. He cursed himself for being a minor. He deserved everything his parents were going to suffer. So many people had died because of him.  
He couldn't stand the glares of the people around him. But most of all, from George.   
He'd gotten quite the ear boxing from George. Tears streaming down the red haired boys face, hot and filled with hatred. Harry and Ron had held him back from using his wand to dismantle Draco piece by piece. Draco had fallen upon the ground holding back tears upon the realization that George was right.  
So many people had died because of him.  
He had tried to not care. Had tried to hide his morality. But he couldn't any longer.  
He screamed, pulling his hair and smacking his fist on the stairs so hard his fingers crunched a bit and the side of his hand began to throb. He then doubled over and sobbed into his knees, unable to suppress his feelings.   
They'd break his wand at least, he'd have to live as a Muggle. Maybe he could marry a wizard and keep himself at least slightly involved in the wizarding world. But he doubted he'd be allowed.  
He sobbed harder and then stood up, screaming until he throat was raw. He didn't know what to do, what to feel. Should he feel hatred against his persecutors? Should he feel happy he was getting what he deserved? Should he feel sorrowful for failing or for being caught? He didn't know what he was supposed to feel at this moment.   
"Stop it, you have no right to be upset you bloody prick." Draco recognized the voice instantly and turned to see Ron Weasley. Harry standing next to him but not looking at Draco. Hermione was not with them which surprised Draco. "You killed my brother, you aren't allowed to cry." Ron spat and Harry looked at the red heads face.  
Ron's face was almost as red with anger as his hair was.  
"I can cry if i want to Weasel. Why not you go coddle your mother or something." Draco said with more venom that he had originally wanted to put into the words.  
Harry stepped forward with a glare on his face, putting himself between Ron and Draco as Ron trembled with anger.  
“How dare you!” He said and Draco didn’t look over, turning his back to them. “They let you off easy. How dare you even think you have the right to disrespect any of the Weasley family after what you did.” Harry spat at Draco and Draco waved over his shoulder at Harry.  
He hid the tears streaming down his face from the both of them by trying to act cocky. He’d let them see him cry. He hated that. Being weak was killing him inside.   
He refused to look back at the two other boys as he walked away with head held high, although he didn't feel very high. He wished he could have kept his pride, he needed it most of all right now. But nothing killed your pride like realizing how much sorrow you caused.  
Fred was gone, as well as many others. And it was Draco's fault. He had to admit it was. It felt like his fault. Everyone hated him for it. And rightly so, he deserved this.  
Draco turned the corner and headed down the halls. He made his way slowly up to the owl keep. Even the owls looked at him and hooted in disgust, backing away and hiding their faces. Some even flew away from him. Draco sat down and put his forehead on the railing of the walkway. He rolled up his sleeves and let himself shiver, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead into the railing roughly. But he took in a sharp breath when he saw what was on his forearm.   
There was no mistaking it. The snake, the skull, the movement across his skin.   
Draco's blue eyes widened and he screamed.   
"No! No! Please no!" He screamed and stood up, almost falling over the railing. He collapsed to his knees and dug his fingernails into the pale skin. "I'm not a death eater." He growled through his teeth as his nails dug into the skin, leaving bloody ruts across his forearm. It was then he felt suddenly weak, blood trailing down his arm and caking underneath his fingernails. He laid his forehead on the ground and sobbed, tears mixing the blood.   
He clenched his jaw trying not to cry but couldn't help it. He smacked his hand against the ground, the hand of his bloodied arm. Blood splattered onto the ground and his whole arm instantly throbbed.   
"Why....please why...." he moaned and tried to stand up, gripping the edges of the railing and almost laying on it. It was a long fall to the ground and for the first time in his whole life Draco felt as if he should throw himself over. How would he ever hide the mark from everyone. They'd all know, and he hated that even more than being weak. They already knew he'd let the death eaters in, but he wasn't one of them. He kept telling himself that.  
He had to in order to remain strong and keep himself sane.


	2. Nothing will be same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Draco discovers what he has, he takes refuge the only place he's ever gone during hard times.

His next actions felt like they were hardly his own. Draco ran through the halls of his house, throwing items of no importance into his bag. A small bottle of his mother's perfume, a candelabra, a looking glass, a newspaper from this morning. Anything he could easily carry he was taking with him. He'd never return to this old mansion of his, Draco knew that much. He filled a bag with clothes, stripped himself of his black clothes, and looked for something inconspicuous. His hands lingered on a dark, thick knit sweater. He buried his face in it and inhaled deeply. It still smelled like him. He wasn't used to that. Everything about Draco had changed from even a year ago, this sweater a dark reminder of that. Carefully he pulled his over his head, cutting a hole in the sleeves for his thumbs so he would be able to easily conceal the snake and skull on his forearm. He grabs his cloak from school then, cutting anything tying him to the school off, leaving it looking ratted which might help him pull this off. He pulls it over his shoulders and buckles it, putting his arms through the sleeves, and leaving the hood down for right now.  
Quickly he grabs his bag, biting down the rock that's lodged itself in his throat. But as he's leaving his room, escaping the mansion, he catches a glance of himself in the mirror. He barely recognizes himself. His eyes, even though they're blue, look dark. Underneath his eyes are dark purple bags, stained with tears and ash. His pale face looks gaunt, his clothes hanging around him oddly, not quite fitting like they used to. His hair is ratted, bits of the school still stuck here and there. He plucks the pieces of wood, the pieces of ash, out of his hair carefully before wiping his face on his sleeve and clearing his throat.  
"This is who you are now." He says calmly and turns away from the mirror. Before he reaches the bottom of the stairs, a knock on the door sounds throughout the house. Draco jumps so hard he nearly falls down the stairs, catching himself on the railing and putting a hand to his chest.  
"Draco we know you're in there!" A voice sounds at the door and Draco tenses. They must have reached a new verdict, or realized Draco was leaving. Which this soon after being discovered as a servant of the dark lord wasn't very well looked upon. "We're from the Ministry of Magic and we'll be getting in there whether you like it or not!" The voice sounds angrier now and Draco instantly feels a sweat across his forehead. He takes a deep breath, getting his composure, and darts through the house.  
He moves as silently as he can, avoiding tables and glass as best he could. He makes his way into his father's office and cracks the door open, closing it behind him. He tries to fight back how strange it feels being inside this forbidden room. Lucius had never let him in here, and for Draco it only took one time being smacked by his father's ring to learn this place wasn't his. He takes a second, looking around carefully and taking in the look of the place. Book shelves lined every wall, a thick dark oak desk underneath a window on the far wall, cabinets here and there filled with who knows what. Draco takes another deep breath, this time it's shakier as he hears the front door burst open.   
His eyes fall on a bookshelf nearest the door and he knows what to do next. He reaches up and grabs the bookshelf, heaving it towards him and jumping out of the way before it can come down him. It falls heavy, sounding through the house and causing feet to start making their way towards him. It blocks the door, and most of all it was Draco's final payback to his father. As he's walking away he hears one final thing fall and turns to look. It's a long box, a wand box. It falls off of the top shelf and lays there before the young man as if asking him to take it.   
Draco obliges. He leans down and opens it, looking inside to see a simple black wand with a large and jagged looking crystal on the hilt of it. Carefully he closed the box and shoves the wand box into his bag. He couldn't let them know he has this. As the footsteps reach the hallway to the office Draco runs towards the desk, leaping on top of it and pulling the window open with all of his might. The window opens, but not without a fight, years of being closed having taken their toll on it.   
"The more you resist the harder this will be for you!" a voice says and soon the door is being pushed against. Draco looks out the window, it's open enough for him to get through but there's a good long drop to the ground looming before him.   
He closes his eyes.   
And then he leaps. And as he falls to the ground he hears the door open and people rush to the window. He smacks to the ground, getting up slowly and painfully before darting away. His head is too filled with adrenaline to hear exactly what they yelled after him, but he knows he recognizes one of the voices as Harry's. He almost feels betrayed.  
Almost.  
But it doesn't make him stop. He keeps bolting through the hills, tripping down valleys, until soon he's at a river. He doesn't waste any time, putting his bag over his body. He takes the wand box out of the bag and opens it, grabbing the wand. He feels nothing, it's no surprised but he had hoped. He puts it into his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he braces himself for the cold, diving into the river. He holds his breath and kicks off of the bottom, gasping for breath between his teeth and the wand as he swims across, kicking as hard as his tired legs could. It feels like ages before the reaches the river's other side, clawing onto the bank of it.   
His shoulders slump as he coughs and pants, the swim having tired him out more than he thought it would. His stomach feels like it's being clawed at, being stretched. He spits the wand out onto the bank and coughs one more.   
Rolling over onto his back he looks up into the sky. Much to his amusement it looks happy, a bright sunny day. He wished it would rain, wished it would thunder and match the way his chest felt. As he catches his breath he reaches over the wand, holding it in his hand and then lifting it to his eyes. He looks it over carefully. It's very simple, a hilt formed to fit your hand nicely, wrapped in tightly stretched leather. The rest of it and simple dark wood. He could only guess what was inside of it. The only thing that really stood out about it was a white crystal about the size of a walnut, jagged and rough, sealed to the end of the hilt. It made this wand have the advantage of also acting like a dagger. It was a good contingency plan if Draco couldn't get a handle on using a wand that wasn't his. As much as he hated to admit it, he had never been one of the best wizards, his only real skill being a liar and a shockingly good cook considering how little he did it.  
He lays there for a moment more and then carefully gets up, shaking his hair out and standing up. He reached into the his bag and pulls out a small medical kit he'd brought just in case. Inside he finds the bandages, still dry. Looking around, he unbuckles his pants and pulls the bandages out. Carefully he holds the wand to his outer thigh and wraps the bandages around it a few times, leaving the handle out for easy access. Then he pulls his pants back up over it and looks at his handy work. You can hardly tell he's hiding a weapon. He almost smiles. He puts his things away quickly then and puts the bag over his shoulder again, heading towards the only place he thought he'd be safe. 

The streets of Knockturn Alley had always made Draco's stomach turn into knots. The air was thick, and with the fall of the dark lord, they were also empty. Much to Draco's advantage. Slowly he makes his way down through the streets, sticking close to buildings and skulking into alleyways whenever he could. He wasn't sure where he was going exactly but he knew this place would have to do, he'd at least be left alone here.   
Carefully he opens the door to a small inn and bar, walking inside the desolate place. Inside there's a few unfamiliar faces, each one rougher than the last, but otherwise it's empty and dark. It's much quieter than he was used to, but it was welcomed. He makes his way to the counter and sets down two Sickles, the silver glinting off of the few candles in the room and the bar tender turns around.   
"What do ya' need?" He asks and puts his hands on the counter, picking one of the coins and looking it over.   
"A room." Draco says curtly, keeping his hood and face down. The man nods and puts the coins in his pocket, walking over to the wall and picking up a heavy brass key. He hands the key to Draco and then clears his throat.   
"That's a lot to pay for a room. Important business?" The man asks.  
"That's nothing of your concern. Just keep quiet about seeing me here or you'll regret it." He snaps, snarling a bit before turning and heading towards the stairs. Seems he wasn't good at being inconspicuous.   
He looks at the number on the key and soon finds the door with the corresponding number. He slides the heavy key into the lock and it clinks, screaming a bit as he turns it. When the door slides open he slams it behind him, taking in what was before him. The room was more dilapidated than the rest of the building, the bed covered in dust and webs, the window cracked and broken enough to let the wind in and chill the room. Draco shivers and then sighs, locking the door and then throws his bag down on the bed. He removes his cloak and picks up the blanket, shaking it off into the room and looking over the mattress for something that might bite him. When he doesn't see anything he wraps the blanket around him and climbs onto the thin mattress, laying down on his bag and closing his eyes.   
And then he lets himself cry, not letting the full weight of his situation hit him, but letting it sink in a bit. He's tired, cold, and lost. He has no home, no family, no place in this world he'd always lived in.   
These thoughts stick with him until he's fast asleep in this small, horrible room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh it's been ages, hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint everyone.   
> I wasn't quite sure where to go with this chapter, so I apologize if it's not exactly cohesive.  
> (Also, as a way of getting myself hyped for writing this, I listened to "Mercy" By Shawn Mendes, It seemed to help.)


End file.
